


Take Me Away

by by_veidt



Category: Grabbity balls, Gravity Falls
Genre: Awkward First Times, Awkward Kissing, Awkward Sexual Situations, Blow Jobs, Boat Sex, Brother/Brother Incest, French Kissing, Frotting, Groping, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Lube, M/M, Neck Kissing, Sibling Incest, Stancest - Freeform, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 09:44:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11506800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/by_veidt/pseuds/by_veidt
Summary: Pinecest Classic spends some intimate time on the Stan O War II.





	Take Me Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bananimosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananimosity/gifts).



> Kind of a sequel to This Was A Bad Idea, but not a necessary pre-read. Please, enjoy. : )

“Haha, all those tentacles kind of remind me of...eugh, nevermind.” Stan grimaced at himself, looking away with a sheepishness that Ford couldn't recall having ever seen before; it was certainly partial disgust in himself and at the memory. The boat rolled with the several foot swell of the waves, and hopefully nothing else as they recovered from the adrenaline spike of encountering and defeating a giant squid.

Ford gave him a sidelong glance with an amused quirk of the eyebrow—it seemed like that all too recent memory bothered Stan more than Ford, but he couldn't blame him. Ford had decades to adjust to the idea of just how weird his relationship with Bill had been, and it was, for lack of a better word, thrust on Stan in the most indelicate way. ' _That squid made off with my spear,_ ' he thought to himself, looking out over the water with caution. The sky seemed to bleed into the ocean at the horizon, and, he mused at the idea of getting lost out here. That was kind of the idea, but they had to think about clean water and food and seeing their family again at some point, but part of Ford felt like Stan was still the only family he had. And he had never been so grateful to have him back, whether he showed it or not. Their last encounter with Bill was a harrowing one to be sure, and after giving himself up to him, he finally understood that pain Stan must have felt the first night they lost each other.

“Didja hear me, Sixer?”

Ford looked over to Stan who was propped against the side of the boat with one arm, his resting face of mild agitation showing. “Sorry?”

“I asked you where you learned to throw like that,” he explained flatly.

“Oh. I don't know. Just picked it up in one dimension or another, I suppose.”

“What's wrong with **you**?” Stan stepped in closer, leaning back against the railing with his arms crossed. “I give you an excuse to blather on about how good you are at something and _that's_ what you give me?”

“Just... thinking,” he smiled with a nearly evasive tone.

“Cause that's always good news,” Stan rolled his eyes, looking off towards the bow of the boat.

“I was thinking about how nice it is to have a family again. And be back here, and out doing this. And how much I missed you, Stanley.”

“Take it easy, Cassanova—this ain't exactly the Tour de France.”

Ford's expression flattened, not entirely able to process how many things were completely wrong with that statement.“And then I'm reminded sometimes of how nice it was to be away.”

Stan gave him a shove to the shoulder with a grin. “Nah, you missed me.”

“Hardly,” he scoffed, looking off dejectedly.

“Pff. I see how you look at me, with those big blue eyes. Don't try to lie to me,” Stan prodded with a strange underpinning of something Ford couldn't quite put his finger on. “You might even care about me, not that you'd ever admit it.”

Ford swallowed as he mulled over an idea that made him feel like Bill had actually driven him mad—it was a bad idea, but he was compelled, and if history has shown anything, he has a hard time learning from mistakes. He leaned in closer to Stan, noticing the quick rise in his brother's chest, but he was already invested. He gently pressed his lips to the other's, feeling the way Stan tensed against him. Ford pulled back, surprised when Stan followed, a large hand wrapping around Ford's wrist that was placed on the edge of the railing just behind Stanley. Their mouths met with some force, Ford's brow furrowing as a strange feeling came over him. Stan had receded, not sure what to say.

“Hm. So that's what kissing a human is like,” Ford reflected. Leave it to Ford to fill in the space. Stan rolled his eyes, pausing as the statement hit him.

“Wait, what?”

“What?” Ford asked as lifted himself away from the railing, Stan's hand still on his wrist.

“You haven't kissed an actual person before?”

“College was a strange time for me.”

“Yeesh, Ford,” he said with an almost mocking tone, veiling another discomfort that was developing. At least he knew his brother wasn't a virgin—why did that come to mind? Ford had oriented himself in front of Stan, hand raising to rest over the gruffer man's heart, leaning against him as he guided him into another kiss. Stan closed his eyes, sliding his hands around Ford's waist, a sting of envy flashing through him. He could feel Ford try not to grin as if he could sense Stan's dismay, Stan pushing him back and inciting a chuckle from his slimmer brother.

“What?” he asked coyly as he tried to hide his laugh.

“You know what!”

“I don't know why you're upset; you get to put your hands all over me.”

“What makes you think I'd want to?”

“Considering you were inches and a good grind away from grabbing my butt, I'd say it's a safe bet.”

“Yeah, well, you always had the worst odds,” Stan muttered, petulantly averting his gaze.

“I'm feeling pretty lucky,” Ford smirked, leaning against the force of Stan's hand on his chest.

“Man, Bill really did a number on you,” he jabbed with a backhanded amusement.

“Low blow,” Ford replied with a thickness to the last word.

“Easy, horndog. Let's stick with the basics for now.”

“Oh, so you're going to teach me?”

“How to control yourself? I guess I have to,” he responded with a tired wryness in his voice, looking away from the other. This got too weird too quickly, but, somehow, it was comfortable. At least his had his brother back once and for all. His weird, nerdy, asshole, smartass, demon-fucking, dimension traveling brother—yep, sounds right.

It took Stan a moment to realize the strange movement on his arm wasn't Ford, recoiling when a blue tentacle felt around his shoulder. He almost knocked Ford over removing himself from the edge of the boat, watching another creep up. “Well, time to put your talents to use.”

“Funny. I'll remember that when I'm--” he was cut off when another grabbed him from the other side of the boat, fortunately holding him up rather than taking him into the deadly-cold water.

“Is this going to be a theme with you?”

“Shut up and get me down!” He struggled to reach the knife in his boot, the erratic motion of the squid making it a near impossible task.

“We've had enough one-eyed jerks in our lifetime, and this two-eyed one is taken, you eight-legged dick!” He had slid on his brass knuckles, before throwing all of his weight into another punch that landed with such force he felt the pop behind the creature's eye. It shrunk back, dropping Ford in the process, who yelled as the dark and choppy water beneath grew closer. He winced when his arm yanked taut, Stan's hands in a death grip around it. Stan pushed off the side of the boat, hauling his brother back on board in one swift pull, Ford falling on top of him as Stan overbalanced and crashed on to the deck. Ford reached for his shoulder, wincing as he massaged his fingers into it to make sure it wasn't dislocated.

“Are you okay?” Stan asked with an exhaustion in his voice, panting as he resigned to laying on the deck.

“Yea. You?”

“Peachy.”

“Ten legs.”

“What?”

“Squid have ten legs, Stanley.”

“Okay, you're going back overboard.”

“Can't go overboard if you can't get me off,” he grinned, pinning Stan's wrists to the soaked wood of the deck floor. His eyes widened when he felt like he had become airborne, his back hitting the ice cold surface, hot hands holding his down hard enough he could feel the grain of the wood.

“Oh, I can get you off.” He leaned down, hesitating before pressing his mouth to the underside of Ford's jaw, pulling back and looking his brother over. It was odd how many features they shared, but how different they were. Ford's lips were fuller, and now parted, panting out clouds into the briny air around them. His eyes were bright blue, pupils wide as he stared up at Stan with, what may be the first time in his life, adoration. His olive tan skin hid his age, only revealed by his ashy hair that was ruffled out of place. And for the first time, in a very long time, he felt home.

“Are you going to kiss me, or are you going to let me freeze to death?”

“You're not making that decision any easier.”

Ford had wriggled a hand loose, grabbing Stan's lapel and pulling him down into a desperate kiss. “My hero,” he grinned as he pulled back just far enough to speak, placing a peck on his lips.

“Yeah, yeah, just don't make me regret this.” He kissed him again, pressing his tongue past Ford's lips, earning a small moan from his brother. Ford pushed up against Stan's thigh, grinding his quickly growing hardness against the other's firm leg. “You're just zero to sixty, aren't you?”

“Pot and kettle, Stanley.”

“There's a thing called foreplay.”

“You aren't getting any younger; I don't want to miss my chance.”

“I'm going to ignore that.” Stan leaned back, slowly getting to his feet and crossing his arms as he watched Ford stand.

Ford wore a small smile, stepping in to Stan's space and expecting him to move—he was disappointed. Stan's brow was furrowed, but only to put Ford off guard—he turned and walked toward the boat cabin, turning to see his brother still feet away. He beamed at him before shutting the door, the lock audibly sliding in to place; he fortunately hadn't closed it so quickly that he didn't get to see Ford's face crack down the center as he realized what was happening. He laughed from the safety of the cabin as his brother banged on the door. “You can't leave me out here! I'm soaking wet thanks to you!”

“Are you going to be like this every time I save your life?”

Ford was quiet, because Stan was right. “You're right... I'm sorry.” He sounded sincere, sincere enough for Stan to pause, leaning against the door, but it was silent on the other side. After a few moments had passed, he considered unlocking the door, and reached for it until he heard the roof creak, turning as the bow window slid further open, Ford dropping himself through it feet first, landing with a grace that startled both of them. “Now, where were we?” His breath caught as the too familiar words left his mouth, cringing internally.

“You were throwing yourself all over me like a drunken prom date.”

“Like you even went to prom.”

“Yeah. I did. You're thinking of you.”

“Oh, yes—you're correct.”

“You didn't want to go because Steph Collins waited for you to ask her, but you were too busy with your books and your perpetual motion machine, so when she told you so, you told her she wasn't important enough.”

Ford petulantly leaned back on the map table, crossing his arms. “That's not how it went—I told her she was being silly because I didn't want to go in the first place—I don't know why she just didn't ask me first instead of doddling on something so trivial.”

“Isn't that what I said, and that's not how it works, poindexter,” he rolled his eyes, bracing a hand against the corner of the table.

“What do you mean?”

“The boys are supposed to ask the girls—that's just the way it works.”

“Well, that's just sexist,” Ford frowned, wondering how it was supposed to work if the boys wanted to ask the boys.

“Yeah, I guess.” There was a brief pause between them, Stan looking off through one of the windows. “Though, if she knew what you were into...”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I mean you attract trouble, and demons,” he blurted as if it should have been the most obvious answer.

“Well, which are you?” He gave Stan a sidelong glance with a quirk of his lips.

“Trouble.”

“Yes, that's always been the general consensus,” Ford offered with a nostalgic distance.

“Yeah, I've heard,” he replied bitterly.

“So... wife?” Ford queried in an attempt to change the subject.

“Do you really want to have this conversation? I'm single after fifty—how's that?”

“Close enough.” He pushed himself off the table, sauntering over to Stan, who still offered no ground. “So... am I still banned from the room?”

“Well, I don't see how I could enforce that,” Stan grumbled, placing balled hands on his hips.

“How about I make it up to you then?”

“And how, do you think, you go about doing that?”

“I can think of a few ways, even if you can't,” he may as well have purred, fingertips pulling at the seam of one of Stan's pants pockets.

“Okay, well you can start by keeping your mouth shut or full, dealer's choice.” Ford closed his eyes with a tight smile at Stan's word choice, 'hm'ing for a moment before pressing himself against the other as he leaned in for a chaste kiss. The options fully sunk in, blush hitting his cheeks and Stan noticing when he pulled back, starting to lower himself to his knees, stopped by Stands hands on his pullover. “I was kidding. I mean, I wasn't kidding—stop talking—but I'd rather go a bit slow. This is all kind of new.”

“Since when do you go slow?”

“Huh. Yeah, alright, fuck it,” Stan shrugged, closing his eyes and lofting his brow in surrender.

Ford flashed him a knowing grin, pushing him back against the cabin door, hands around his jaw as he pulled him into a deep and tongue filled kiss. Stan groaned, hands grabbing into the fabric around Ford's waist as he did his best to keep up with the other. Ford broke them apart, panting gently. “I enjoy that.”

“Yeah? Good,” Stan said a little breathlessly before Ford's mouth was over his again, hands prowling over Stan's abdomen, unfastening the lifepreserver and dropping it to the man's feet. He smoothed over the damp undershirt, corners of his mouth turning up before breaking away again.

“Our month long apocalypse was good to you.”

“Somehow I suspect it was better for you,” Stan grumbled, popping the buckles of Ford's vest open, drawing the zipper of his blazer down.

“Yes, well...” He pushed Stan's coat off of his shoulders, letting it drop as well before pinning him against the door with his body, mouth on his neck. Stan worked his brother's jacket off while Ford worked on his neck, tongue following lines of teeth, relishing the taste of sea salt that had caught on his skin.

“Oh, that's nice,” Stan half-groaned, fingers curling for a moment into the fabric.

“Good.” He sucked at the junction of the man's neck and shoulder, tongue dipping along the ridge of bone and tendon, hands burrowing under the white shirt, fingers sticking to the slightly damp skin.

“Heh. This is kind of weird,” Stan conceded, nervousness creeping back into his senses as he realized he might be enjoying this a little too much.

“Yeah, but I kind of like it weird,” Ford said lowly, hand tracing Stan's body down to his groin, fingers running along the form of Stan's growing hardness.

“I got that,” he swallowed, dropping his head back against the door with a thud as fire licked up his body, hand finding Ford's as the other teased him. “Are you sure you want to do this? I don't want you to feel like you owe it to me or something creepy like that.”

“Absolutely 'yes', if that's what you mean. Are you? Sure, that is.”

“Yeah, it's just strange that I have to tell you to be patient when it's your first time, but I'll be gentle with you.”

“'Gentle'? With me? I think you're mistaken.”

“Well, naturally, since you've never done this before, I should lead.”

“I've done this plenty of times.”

“Getting tentacle-fucked by a demon doesn't count,” Stan stated flatly with an irked gaze.

“Why not? And you don't know what I've been with,” he defended, brow furrowing.

“What does that mean??”

“Exactly as it sounds, Stanley.”

“Okay, let's try this again, since I'm the one here with 'human' experience, I get to lead, and by lead I mean top.”

“That hardly seems fair—I'm more well traveled.”

“I'm also the alpha twin. Ew...that was weird.” Stan took a moment to recover from having for a second grossed himself out.

“Yes, yes, weird, it's weird, I know. And our time apart has given me a significant perspective on the whole 'alpha twin' thing,” he replied thoughtfully, looking off to recount his thoughts on the subject.

“Well, I'm pretty sure I'm still stronger than you.”

“That's not what this is about, it's about technique and physics.”

“Wow, way to beat the romance right out of it.”

Ford rolled his eyes, eager to fight him on every point, but noticing it was killing the mood in record time. “How about we flip a coin then.”

“What? You're going to play chance against me? Fine.” He reached in to his pocket, fishing out an old ship token.

“No, no. Not any of your coins.” He reached in to his own pocket, fishing around to find nothing. He pursed his lips. “Well, I don't have any, so I suppose yours it is,” he conceded with a pout.

Stan gave him a sly grin, rolling the coin over his fingers before flipping it high into the air, calling 'heads' almost as soon as it left his thumb. He jumped when he felt nimble fingers yank his fly open, pulling his mostly hard length out, cool air barely rolling over it before the sweltering heat of Ford's mouth engulfed him, a firm hand finding his brother's head as he choked on a gasp. The coin hit the floor at his feet, bouncing twice along the floor before fluttering to a stop—tails.

Stan's fingers pulled at the thick curl of Ford's hair, a sputtering moan leaving him as Ford's mouth drew along his length, tongue pressed to the underside with a wicked heat that burned straight into Stan's core. He settled, braced rather, against the door, mind a haze as Ford worked him over, the man's hands tight against his thighs, tongue so flexible and wonderful. And in a sobering moment he realized it was Ford who was so expertly wrapped around him, an ill feeling twisting in his gut, looking down to his brother, same silly turtleneck, legs splayed as he sat between them, hair in tousled pieces over Stan's whitening knuckles, lips so pink and wet, eyes that same endless blue, and startling as Stan realized they were now starting up at him, darkened and lustful beneath that brow. And Stan couldn't stop his mouth from falling open, a tightness that had almost become a distant memory stirring in his loins, hand trembling against Ford's shoulder as he braced against him as well, hypnotized by watching his brother so methodically coax him towards orgasm faster than he could remember anyone else doing. He tried to close his eyes and failed, locked in to the stare the other had on him, and still after when Ford removed himself from Stan, giving his thighs a playful squeeze. “Aw, you dick,” Stan groaned; his cock throbbed, ached, and his body shook slightly.

“You want our first time to be good, don't you?”

“I was doing pretty good.”

“But I can do even better,” he promised with a uncharacteristically licentious grin, standing and hooking a finger over the top of Stan's a-frame, guiding him easily to the full size bed that took up most of the cabin.

A hard swell dropped them onto the mattress, Stan catching himself over Ford. “Well, isn't this just a bit of serendipity.”

“Surprising elocution from a man who almost failed his English classes.”

“Scoff all you want, but you're still the one in the compromising position—and maybe I want to pick up where we left off.”

“Oh, no, it was tails.”

“Yeah, and its yours I'm going to get.” He reached between them, fingers tracing over the line of Ford's straining erection before unfastening his pants. Ford felt his heart skip a beat, but he made no movement to change his position, waiting for his opportunity and enjoying the casual intimacy—it seemed so foreign, but so right. The heat of Stan near him, his voice, tone, hand around his cock as he struggled to pull him free, a small noise escaping Ford. He soon felt the cool tackyness of his brother's saliva coated hardness against his, firm hand wrapped around them both, pressure and heat such a welcome sensation. He grabbed the thin straps of Stan's shirt that ran up over his shoulders, tugging at them as he thrust into Stan's touch. Ford gave a restrained moan, hips pushing up hard into the increasingly grabbing heat. “I never pegged you as the noisy type,” Stan half-smirked.

“Well... we can't have all grown up sneaking around the ladies locker room.”

“I guess you were too busy in the boys.”

“Says the man with his hand around my cock.”

“It's around mine too.”

“Does that make it less gay?”

“I don't know. How many tentacles up your ass does it take?”

“Why don't you tell me after you're done screaming my name.” He rolled Stanley off him towards the wall, Stan subsequently knocking his elbow into it with a pained grunt and hiss.

“Picking on the old man, eh?”

“We're the same age, Stanley.” Stan suppressed a shudder at the way his name sounded on Ford's tongue—did it always sound like that? So smooth and thick? “Unless you count the several weeks I was technically suspended in time in a way.” He dragged Stan more towards the center of the bed, setting himself between the man's knees as he casually pressed one of Stan's legs up, running his other hand up the cleft of his brother's ass, along his notably soft balls, and finally up the underside of his still mostly hard cock. Stan shivered under him, blinking when he felt Ford gone with a sudden swiftness. He looked up over his chest, watching the man rifle around in a lower drawer of the map desk. Stan dropped his head back, closing his eyes as his hand wrapped around his length, stroking it idly at the fresh images of Ford's supple mouth sweltering around him, heat rising up his neck.

When the bed sank between his legs, he cracked an eye open to look down the length of his body, watching Ford not so meticulously douse his first few digits in what looked like lube. “What, did you plan this out?”

“Fucking you? No. But I planned for a long trip with many spikes in adrenaline, so, naturally, I planned for a way to keep myself satiated on the offchance the giant squid we ran into wasn't particularly friendly.” He smiled at his own joke, watching the viscous strands thread between his fingers when he flexed them apart, pressing his hand to his brother's ass again, fingers drawing languidly over the tightening circle of flesh.

“Are you sure this is a good idea—what with you never having done this before?”

“Trust me, I'm a doctor.”

“Fine. But don't screw it up.” Stan winced at the expectation of pain and the odd sensation of the prodding motion of Ford's third digit, finger sliding in with relatively little pull and just enough girth to bring a new heat to Stan's groin.

 


End file.
